3 Palms Grille & Gallery is one of those places you go when you don't want to get dressed up but want to eat extremely well. Its casual charm, friendly neighborhood ambiance and high-quality dishes — a creative mix of various ethnic influences and culinary styles — is an attractive combination that's hard to resist.
But as far as the decor, it's pretty modest. As you sit at a table loaded with tasty culinary surprises, you can amuse yourself by noting the outlines of what used to be a service station repair bay. Where was the lift? On which side were the gas pumps?
Certainly, the cash register was in the other room.
On the walls are original art and a kitschy creativity — the nook that once held a window air conditioner now focuses your eye on a colorful bottle collection; the concrete block walls are artfully disguised beneath fresh white paint. They once were barriers between the repair bays; now they separate the dining room and bar area. The rough concrete floor is painted pink.
Behind the restaurant sits a large, wooden deck and landscaped garden that provides a roomy alternative to the interior. This would be a pleasant spot to gather for larger parties.
3 Palms Grille and Gallery features a modest setting, friendly patrons, close quarters — in all a neighborhood favorite. Its location on a grubby stretch of Armenia Avenue gives it a working-class feel, reinforced by its past history as a gas station with living quarters atop. Inside, its candlelit interior is done in beach-y colors of salmon, green and sand, and it is clean and tidy and very comfortable.
On our first visit, we just wanted to sit with drinks for a while — and to avoid immediate decisions, which is a good test of whether the staff is truly gracious, or just pretending to be nice. At certain fine dining establishments, such behavior will set off teeth grinding and stiff smiles that, translated, mean: "You need to eat, to spend, or we will turn your table over to more generous tenants."
The waiter brought sangria and beer, and left us alone for a half-hour so we could unwind. When we had recovered our wits, we focused on the menu: An eclectic international hodgepodge that runs the gamut from an appetizer called "Cuban egg rolls," to entrees like "Argentine steak chimichurri" and the New Orleans dish Jambalaya.
The appetizer we tried — crab cakes with banana chutney ($9.95) — was very good, and big enough to substitute for an entree if you're a light eater, which is notable because the food is not cheap: entrees range from $10.95 to $19.95; and desserts cost $4.95-6.95.
My dining companion had previously enjoyed the house specialty salad — hearts of palm marinated in a citrus vinaigrette and garnished with orange slices and red onion; but this night we chose grilled chicken Caesar salad. Out came a big fresh, cold plate of perfect greens, topped with a hefty portion of grilled chicken and a homemade dressing nestled on the side. Accompanying it was a thick round of handmade bread, complemented by real sweet butter, which was so good people kept reordering it like they might reorder martinis.
Another day at lunch, I tried the soup of the day, which turned out to be gumbo ($4.95), a thick concoction loaded with okra and big chunks of chicken and set on a bed of rice. It was spicy and rich and so hearty it could have subbed for an entree; but I continued with Rasta Pasta ($9.95), green and red peppers with broccoli, black beans, zucchini, yellow squash and onions tossed in a garlic-herb sauce and set on perfect fettuccine. The veggies were fresh and crunchy, the pasta hot and the generous mound of grilled chicken piled atop remained fork-tender because it was not overcooked, a common fault of lesser restaurants.
For dessert, we twice attempted to order the restaurant's specialty, guava cheesecake, but, alas, during our first two meals, the item was so popular that early diners had already scarfed all of it up. So, we settled for our second choice, coconut creme brulee ($6.95), a smooth concoction of custard residing beneath a crispy burnt-sugar glaze, which is accomplished with the intense heat of a blowtorch.
During our first visit, the mechanics of creating the dish were mercifully accomplished out of sight in the kitchen, as it should be, but during our second visit, the waitress gave the word "informality" new meaning when she brought the custard out, set it on our table, and whipped out a hand-held blowtorch to finish the dish. I know 3 Palms used to be a service station, but this was going a bit far. Maybe some people would consider such a performance interesting to watch, but we had seen it many times before and felt it marred the, uh, ambience of our evening out. And let's not even mention the word "safety."
My third visit was during lunchtime and, alas, I finally scored a piece of the fabled cheesecake ($5.95). This time, the chef, in a nod to the holiday season, had created an unusual pumpkin-chocolate variety. Its delicate flavor and velvety texture was quite divine, and it's no mystery why it flies out the door … you're not going to find much better anywhere.
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This article appears in May 15-21, 2002.